Chapter 11

Unrelenting

“The Misted East hides peculiar truths; I wish I could venture beyond the white blanket, but my old bones betray me.”

Mind of the Heretic, Vol. VI

Vorvil sat patiently beside his own bed that had long since been occupied by the Outlander, remaining silent as the latter stirred through the tomes of knowledge that most outside the Palace can only ever dream of. On occasion, he would frown, and then again he would smile, but for the most part, he remained expressionless, ever so often picking the glass of wine and taking a sip.

He felt slightly pensive over being left alone with the man, especially as he was wearing a rather open, silken robe that was cut across the center, revealing the man’s robust chest. Whatever such build was for, it can’t have been anything pretty, Vorvil reasoned. How easily, after all, would it be for the Outlander’s massive hands to wrap around his neck and snap it as though it was a twig?

However, these were the Princess’ orders, after all – he couldn’t exactly reject them. He had to sit in place and wait for the Outlander to ask him a question and hope he had an answer to it.

“… this part, right here,” the Outlander suddenly spoke out, for the first time, in a rather deep voice, startling Vorvil. “Relax. I don’t bite.” He smiled faintly, catching Vorvil from falling off the stool. The latter’s heart beat furiously as he met the pair of deep-blue eyes that felt rather reassuring.

“… uh, s-sorry,” he apologized awkwardly. “W-which part?” he asked.

“This,” Noah pointed. “Where it says that the Principality is broken down into tiers. What does it mean?”

“Ah, that,” Vorvil exclaimed lowly, happy it was a question he knew an answer to. “It’s similar to how Nobility is spread out.”

“… hierarchically?” he asked.

“Yes,” Vorvil nodded. “The Principality of Light is headed by the Lightbringer – that penultimate title associated with the Light. Those who acquire Light are called the Illuminated, and then the ranks spread in-between those two."

“What are the qualifications for the higher ranks?”

“Hmm… a lot of things, really – it’s rather fluid,” Vorvil replied. "Within the lower tiers, Charges play a large role in the ranking. There's also which Augmentation of Light one achieves, the rough estimate of its either offense, defense or utility, and so on. It's calculated on a case-by-case basis, really."

“…” the Outlander remained silent for a long while after, seemingly processing Vorvil’s explanation. “At what rank does one obtain a political presence?”

“… uh… what… what do you mean?” Vorvil asked, somewhat confused.

“What rank do you have to reach within the Principality,” Noah explained. “In order to have a say in the local or Kingdom-wide affairs? For instance, to be invited to the Courtly Meetings and such.”

“Ah, that,” Vorvil frowned for a moment before replying. “Officially… anyone who becomes a part of the Principality foregoes both the mercantile and the courtly careers, meaning they are not allowed to have a voice in either of those two paths.”

“… but in reality?” Noah pressed.

“As far as I’m aware – and, please, do not tell anyone I told you this,” Vorvil said, a faint feeling of excitement swelling within him; he hadn't had another soul to share his findings with as he never knew who to trust enough with the information, so the Outlander's presence gave him a perfect opportunity. "It hardly has much to do with the ranks themselves; so long as you are found to have an affinity with Light, merchants, as well as nobles, will contact you. Through them, it is possible to establish a political presence. I've known quite a few members of the Principality that also groomed a Noble or a Merchant specifically as to vicariously participate in the Kingdom's affairs."

“… hmm. Interesting.” Noah stroked his ruffled beard for a moment, a shine in his eyes exploding briefly. “How many members does the Court have?”

“As for this year’s registry, it’s 238.”

“… that’s a lot of members.” He frowned.

“Hm,” Vorvil nodded. “But, those actively participating, and with enough pull for their voice to mean something, number at around 60 at best. Besides, the camp divisions between the Princes and Princess account for such large inflation of numbers as the Holy War is nearing."

“… right, Holy War,” Noah exclaimed, having remembered reading about it before, but never quite grasping what it meant. “What does that mean?”

“It’s a war for the Throne.” Vorvil explained simply.

“… huh? Not… an actual war, right?”

“An actual war,” Vorvil reaffirmed, not finding it strange. "On average, they last for about 3-4 months. The Princes and the Princesses can go into temporary alliances, but, by the end, only one can be left standing – that is, they have to defeat all other contenders, or make them surrender." Aii, how did this fucking Kingdom survive thus far… Noah rubbed his temples in frustration. Not necessarily because it impeded upon his plans – rather, the war would be a great help – but because of the sheer stupidity of it all. Whenever a vacuum of power is created following the ruler’s death, it leads to more and more instability in the coming years and decades. Eventually, all hell boils over and the nation explodes from the inside out. Yet, Lumina Kingdom maintained itself for centuries now. Either the surrounding Kingdoms didn’t care for it, or there was something larger at play that he was not privy to.

"… the surrounding Kingdoms never tried and take advantage of the situation?" he asked.

“They most certainly have,” Vorvil smiled bitterly. “But, the reigning rule is that, in case of the foreign invasion, the Holy War is put on a temporary halt and all efforts are focused on defending the Kingdom.” Hm, it makes more sense now, Noah thought, stroking his chin. An army that’s already been battling for a while is far more prepared than the one that’s just been assembled… still, parts of it confused him – there was no way, throughout the centuries, that no Prince or a Princess tried to abuse the temporary ceasefire in order to gain an advantage. But, for the time being, the answers to it all weren't as important.

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“In your opinion,” the Outlander said, his tone rather serious, forcing Vorvil to stiffen slightly. “Just how insignificant do you think our Princess is?”

“A-ah, w-what—”

"I don't need the holistic reply of a devout follower," Noah shook his head, quickly interrupting him. "But someone in-the-know. My task here is to make her the Kingdom's sun, Vorvil; I need to know how far away from that she is at the moment.”

“…” Vorvil thought deeply for a second; the Princess had already informed him of her arrangement with the Outlander. Even he, who wholeheartedly believed in her abilities, was rather pensive over the Outlander’s, amusingly, outlandish plan. “Princess Olivia is rather loved,” he took a deep breath and started. “Especially by the young recruits of the army and the kids from the orphanages. She’s one of the few Royals and Nobles who pays any attention to them. However… outside those two groups… she, unfortunately, holds little to no influence. As the youngest Princess, the Nobles see little value in befriending her as the amount of power she wields is extremely limited. Her siblings, however, like her quite a lot as she's the only one not competing for the Throne. She has no foes, as far as I'm aware, at least, but she also has few, if any, true friends – especially those with power, wealth, and influence."

“—tell me about the army’s young recruits,” Noah tapped his fingers against the table for a moment before asking. “What’s the situation there?”

“Our army’s requirements are rather stringent,” Vorvil explained. "As we want only the best of the best. Out of every hundred new recruits, usually, only three or four make it to the main army, while the rest are either kicked out entirely or are relegated to guard duties. During their training, everyone is rather imposing and harsh toward them – the Princess, however, visits them ever so often and brinks them some exotic drinks and food, encouraging them to do better. Because of this, young boys especially took a great liking toward her."

“… interesting.” Noah muttered, stroking his beard once again. This opened up a whole new avenue of a power-grab, at least to him. After all, with his modern training methods, and with the Princess herself as a motivation for those young boys, he would be able to transform even the most useless mut into a monster, with enough time, of course. I can’t rush it; for that, I’ll need wealth first, and the ability to conceal what I’m doing… “How much wealth does she have at her disposal?”

“… what do you mean?” Vorvil asked, frowning.

“Her personal wealth,” Noah explained. “Unbound to her family or other official avenues.”

“…”

“… I don’t want her coins,” Noah sighed. “But I need to know how much she has within the economic standards of the Kingdom. At the end of the day, wealth is the unspoken god of the everyday world.”

“…” though he felt rather strange about answering the question, he still had to as the Princess ordered him to answer all the questions the Outlander might have. "Princess is allotted a monthly allowance of Eighty Crowns; as far as I’m aware, at least, she had saved around six hundred as her personal wealth.”

“Rationalize it to me.”

“H-huh?”

"How much is eighty Crowns," Noah explained patiently. "That is, present to me its relative value within the economy."

“A-ah, right,” Vorvil coughed, feeling somewhat embarrassed. “For eighty Crowns, it is possible to train a full hundred men into army.”

“How many weapons can be bought with it?”

“Around two-thousand decent swords.”

“Horses?”

“Depends on the breed, but the ones army uses each go for about two crowns, so forty.”

“Slaves?” Noah asked, partly probing to see whether the Kingdom had slavery, and partly to establish some baseline.

“Again… depends on the background,” Vorvil frowned faintly at the mention of slaves, but quickly hid his expression – though it hardly went unnoticed by Noah. “But, grown men that can act as either guards or carriers go for around fifteen crowns each.” People are valued more than horses? Noah was rather surprised by this; in most other systems of slavery, while the slaves were a rather costly commodity, they were still something that anyone successful could afford. Horses, on the other hand, are much harder to 'breed' and are far more beneficial in pre-industrial societies.

“What’s the Princess’ stance on the slaves?” Noah asked quickly as he couldn’t be bothered to convince her in their value if she found the concept deplorable; he’d much rather plan around it.

“W-what do you mean?” Vorvil stuttered, realizing he had asked that question far too many times during their exchange.

“Exactly that,” the Outlander’s gaze forced him to keep staring at that pair of daunting eyes. There was something oddly imposing about the silent countenance of the body that Vorvil couldn’t put into words, pressuring him invisibly. “Does she find the concept as horrible as you? Or is she open to using them so long as they are treated properly? Or does she find them so filthy she’d rather drink piss than be in the presence of one? Or is she entirely indifferent – either this or that way?”

“A-ah, uh…” the man’s rapid-fire bombardment of rather outrageous statements that would have anyone else hanged within seconds left Vorvil mute for a moment, unable to respond. There was also the echo in which he realized the Outlander somehow recognized his own stance on the slaves – which terrified him perhaps more than his statements in regards to the Princess.

“… rather than drowning in the altruistic soup of high morals,” Noah said, moving his eyes down toward the book. “Silently judging the world you see as wrong, exploit its state. Why not buy a few slaves, treat them like you'd treat your friend, and win over their hearts? Employ them, start a new business through them, buy new slaves, rinse and repeat. Within a decade, you'll have an army of devout friends who would throw themselves into the fire for you. And coffers so full you wouldn't know what to do with them. Slavers might be abhorrent people, but your indifferent silence is just as bad."

Noah, naturally, wasn't preaching for the sake of preaching; he didn't care either way. Most developing civilizations, at one point or another, had engaged in one or another form of slavery. It was simply the hierarchical nature of humans taken to its extremes. What he wanted, instead, was to plant a seed; Vorvil, though rather old and at surface useless, was worth almost as much as Princess to Noah, at least during the initial stages. While the latter may know the high-end things of the nobles, royals, and the court, he doubted she knew very much of the lower basket of the society, despite her engagement on that level. Rather than the Princess, Vorvil would become Noah's light in a web of connections he would soon begin spinning. And, as it just happened, he was rather idealistic – which made him quite easy to control.

Idealistic people are easily stoked into anger – so long as you challenge their holistic views in one way or another, you garner animosity. From that animosity, it is possible, then, to furnish action by simply pointing a finger. And angry people are, in effect, also blind people; their rational judgment is culled and replaced by the 'gut-reaction' – so long as you curtail their heart to something they believe in, they'd do anything to achieve it.

The same fire suddenly burned inside Vorvil’s eyes, though he was quick to hide it; his unchallenged views on the concept of slavery were unchallenged no more. And, what’s more, his actions toward it were directly brought into question – if Noah asked him, right now, to go out and buy a few slaves to prove him the hypothesis, the man would undoubtedly do it. So far so good, Noah sighed inwardly, leaning back onto his bed, letting the silence reign over the two men. I'll have to look into the economy directly; the best way to get rich quickly would be to establish a bank, especially if they don't have it already, but I don't think 600 crowns would be enough. Hmm, she's a Princess; she can probably call in a few hundred more in case it becomes necessary.

For a moment, he also went on to examine his own choices; in the current projection, he'd be in his mid-fifties by the time he brought Olivia to the throne of the Kingdom. Considering that the vast majority of the world is entirely unexplored, who knows where the others might have landed – if they had landed here at all. I might start reconciling with the fact that I’ll never see them, or the Earth, again… he thought, closing his eyes. But not just yet… not just yet…